Falling Pieces English Version
by Juna2004
Summary: Deep in own thoughts. Deep within. Everthing is falling apart. Piece by piece. Or not? Give it something against it? Something to prove wrong? Read and find out!


**Hello everbody!**

**This is my first FF abaout Harry Potter… and in english. I have to say I wrote a few FFs, but all in my language german. So don't get so hard on me… kay? I know that my english isnt' the best… but I hope also not so bad at all!**

**When somebody wanted to help me… Mail me! I need a little helping hand. Because it is very difficult from german into english. I wanted also my Inuyasha story in english posten… but you know… it is a hard way… Nahhh… I won't say anymore. That won't chnage the fact that my writing is now on, right? So… then… I hop you like the FF and I will be a lucky girl, when I get a few reviews… So please let me know what you thing about it!**

**Till then…**

**Bye**

**Juna**

_And to say: I don't own Harry Potter. Not a little sniff It als J.K Rowlings.._

_But hehe Emily is mine and the idea for the FF hehe_

_**How much I wanted to cry out aloud**_

_**However… I don't say a single word**_

_**I'm only quiet**_

_**See no sense**_

_**I feel empty**_

_**See no way out**_

_**Have no hope anymore**_

_**No more strength for the life**_

_**I wish I could stop the time**_

_**But the clock continues to tick on the wall**_

_**Everything goes by**_

_**Without me**_

_**I am endless sad**_

_**But I have not tears anymore**_

**_I wish I could forget_**

**_Everything_**

_**But my thoughts torment me**_

_**I breath in and out**_

_**But I hate my life**_

The bed seems like it was not used. Without folds in the ironed bed purchases, expect the ones who was from the folding and laying down in the cabinet. The cushion was still neat with a crease in the middel, and the feathers havn't tormenting hard nights behind. Both doors of the wandrobe were wide open and the only thing on the hangers was…. emptiness. On the bureau beside the door lay some clohtes, which everybody could see was for an large and filling body... Already maltreadet of the everyday life. On the bright laminate soil was an large black case. Negligently opened, not furhter unpacked or pay attention to the things in it. In the dark corner stood a medium sized cage, for a bird so far someone could say. Water and food was fresh and few snowwhite feathers lay on the solid of the cage.

At the window stood a small desk. No pergament as always was on it. Also none ink-spots were everywehre on the desk. Just a boy… in a way. Because for a boy he was to old… and for an adult… still to young. Teenanger of nearly 16… yes… Teenanger was nevertheless the correct word… somehow. But despite the young age, he was probably adult… more than he it did well to him. He knew more, than he wanted ever to know. Saw more, than he wanted ever to see and what ohter has ever seen or heard. A hard long way was behind him… and all this with just **16**!

His green eyes looked up in the sky, wiht the back leaning at the opend window. Halfsitting on the window sill, halfsitting on the desk, wich he could call his own. His arms held his legs near him and there were not able to to different than that. Dark eyerings lifted themselves uo from his pale face…. cloudy emerald-green eyes looked more in nothingness than in the blue sky above him. His lips were also plae like the rest of his face, not healthy rosé anymore and his black hair seems darker as usual. All this gave him a scary ghost apperance. He harvested strange looks from the people, wich walked by the road he lifed when they looked up and saw him. But it interested him not at all, like that he hadn't slept for days… that he hadn't eaten for days… and the only movement he did was… to give his owl Hedwig fresh water and food. She hasn't to do with all this he was in… what was done. That he suffered the way, he suffered. That he has the nightmares, he has. That he doesn't want any of this,for which he was probably born. Determine or don't determine. He hated himself… and everything around.

He thought a lot about it all… and he did much, since he had arrived here. Like…probably…would be his life if…

… _if his parents were still alive._

…_. if his parents never were magician._

… _if Voldemort never become so possessed_

… _if his relations never accepted him._

… _if he wouldn't be the chosen one._

… _if he was a normal boy with a normal life._

… _if he woud't be Potter, Harry Potter._

It wasn't like he disliked his parents. He didn't know them really. Just from a few pictures and a handfull of stroys about his beloved ones. It wasn't like he couldn't be proud of his name. But for all people he was –_Harry Potter-The boy who lived_- Fine… just fine! Wasn't he more than this? Only somone who oulived and his mother had died for it. Should he be proud of it? He could't do that, he can't be proud on the fact that someone had to die to protect him. He didn't want to be protected, and nevertheless he must again… and again. Harry hated it. He must become stronger. Much stronger. But before he ist able to fight against Voldemort… many years of learning lay ahead of him.

**He posses power?**

A dry laugh formed on his pale lips.

He can create a Patronus.

**Wow**… some says… only a powerful wizard are able to do the spell –Expecto Patronum- in the size he does. But he believe more, that he was able to do it, because he wanted to protect someone. Somone who could save him in a way… at least a little. To experience a little what it means to have a family. To know like it be to have a father… because he don't know what it feels to have a fahter… or a mother. He was here unloved. From where also? He got, in the first year in Hogwarts in his hole life, gifts. And not only one, many of them. The biggest gift was, that he felt for the first time in his life, loved. And he treasured it in his heart. So… he don't know really what the word family means. He could call his friends in a way family, right? Or so… Harry don't know. And how ironic it was… becaus he was sure that he will never know. That he will never the experience himself. He would never able to… he will die before he will ever get the chance for it. He was sure of it. So damn sure… And to clasp on thing or persons won't help. At the end… they wouldn't been longer there. Everything will crumbl to the left and right away. Gradually on the way he must go. If he wanted to... or not. His death sentence had been already written before his birth. An inevitable prohecy in wich he had the main role. Wanted or inadvertent. Inadvertently, that was certain. He could something better imagine than to know that he will die. Somtime… as an old man. After a fulfilled life. With an woman by his side and maybe children… Grandchildren. That would be then ok. Then… Not now. Not yet. Not so early. After a beautiful long life, wich has probably also hurdles. But not such. In a few weeks he has his 16 birthday. **16**! How could he have such a life? How will he ever able to have it? When he perhaps die this… next… with luck in the year after the next.With his small power he must fight against Voldemort. That only he can defeat Voldemort. And the victim for this victory will be… perhaps his own life.

Was that not a wonderful prospect for his future?

He had to laugh humourless. More bad thing could not come to him. That was the unluckiest thing, what could haunt him. Nightmares troubled him… He knew from his own death…

That was to laugh… nevertheless…


End file.
